


Temperature

by cuethe_pulse



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 15:58:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuethe_pulse/pseuds/cuethe_pulse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zoro was left feeling hot for days, while Sanji couldn’t get warm at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temperature

It was some combination of the freckles, the smile that was a flash of teeth and mischief, and that charisma that was the same kind Luffy possessed just used very differently—that was what pulled Zoro into the storage room with his captain’s brother.  
  
It was the _heat_ that kept him there.   
  
Every touch of the man’s body was scorching and left Zoro hissing with his head thrown back in a haze of painful pleasure. Ace’s mouth left a sizzling trail down the column of his throat, his tongue making slow circles over the rapid fluttering of his pulse. Leisurely, like Ace wasn’t ever leaving, like there wasn’t a kingdom to save, like they had all the time in the world to just lay there and burn together.  
  
His belts were undone, his shorts shoved down enough for Zoro to dig his fingers into the firm flesh of his ass. Their hips rolled at the same languid pace until the _need_ coiling inside of Zoro made that impossible and he growled, refusing to beg even though he felt like he might explode if Something didn’t happen. Ace smirked, his lips setting fire to Zoro’s collarbone, and then he was _moving_ , fast and frantic, and the wood beneath them was creaking a little and their erections, slick and searing, met with urgency.  
  
Zoro knew what he must’ve looked like. Bucking up into the body of the man between his legs, craving more friction and heat. Sweating, skin flushed. Lips closed tight in an attempt to keep from panting. He’d never imagined letting himself get like this with another man, with anyone, yet here he was.  
  
(And he didn’t know why it took so little effort, didn’t know what made Ace special, but he’d learned from experience with Luffy that it was best not to question this kind of thing, to just go with it and hope he ended up where he needed to be.   
  
He certainly wasn’t going to complain about ending up here.)  
  
A warm, wet tongue was in his ear and he was seconds away from completion when he found that the arousal that jerked and rubbed alongside his own was not the hottest part of the man. A hand gripped at his hip and though there were no flames to be seen, Zoro could feel them licking at him. His lips parted, he came with his back arching off the floorboards and a sound he would never admit to making being ripped from his throat as Ace’s palm branded his skin.   
  


* * *

  
Sanji wondered why he had to be the one to find them.  
  
He supposed it was his own fault. When Usopp asked where Zoro was, he should’ve known better. He should’ve tossed out his remark about how useless the lazy-idiot-swordsman was and left it at that. But he had to go looking for him. And not because he cared about satisfying Usopp’s curiosity, and not because he cared about where Zoro was or what Zoro was doing. But because he was drawn to him, because he had been from the beginning, for stupid reasons he knew but didn’t like to think about.   
  
So he was standing outside the storage room, hand in mid-reach for the door, and he was looking into the porthole at the very moment Luffy’s brother brought the man he very-probably-loved to orgasm.   
  
He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, and he felt so suddenly and startlingly cold that he thought he might’ve died. He just _stood_ there, his eyes wide and his cigarette falling from his mouth and him doing nothing to stop it, like a fool.   
  
He watched Zoro’s hands run up the tattooed back, over the shoulders and into the dark hair, where his fingers tangled— _tangled_ , in a lover’s grasp—and he saw their mouths meet—  
  


* * *

  
Sanji woke up in the Alubarna palace with that chill still wrapped around his heart and an extra blanket carelessly draped over him.  
  
“You were shivering.”  
  
He turned his head, saw Zoro sitting cross-legged on the bed beside his, eying him with a disinterested gaze (so unlike the heated look that haunted his sleep). “Nights are cold in the desert.”   
  
“It’s the middle of the day.”  
  
“This is your blanket, right? It smells like you.” (He avoided the storage room for as long as he could, but he went in, once, before they docked and the mingling scents of steel and charred flesh and sex made him feel ill.) He forced a teasing smile. “Were you worried about me?”  
  
Zoro rolled his eyes and started tugging at his bandages. “I didn’t need it.”  
  
Sanji had a comment or two on his tongue. Something like, “You don’t have to try and pretend you weren’t thinking of me, you considerate moron” or maybe, “Taking your bandages off early—you’re _that_ eager to piss off our new doctor?”  
  
But the words froze in his throat when he saw the hand-shaped burn on Zoro’s hip, and the only thing he could manage was turning his head in the other direction.


End file.
